Unrealistic Expectations

I have always wanted to be a mom. I've also always wanted to be a writer, a photographer, a scuba diver, a marine biologist, an archer, a painter, a singer, and thin. Have I achieved all of these goals? No. But some of them I have.

The road to becoming a mom wasn't what I expected it to be. I'm a great dreamer and have a very active imagination. In my mind growing up I saw myself finding the perfect man, settling down, then when we were ready, having four kids (two boys and two girls)in three year intervals. I also imagined knowing exactly how to be a great mom and raising my kids up honorably to be outstanding citizens of society and overall kind people.

In reality, I didn't find my sweetheart until he had already experienced a first marriage, children, and divorce. We didn't get married until I was in my late twenties and already been in a career as a Business Analyst for several years. Then, when we felt it was time to have kids, things didn't go as planned. I miscarried time and again. But each time I wanted it more and feared that it might never happen.

Then it did. After many shots, treatments, fertility doctors, and prayers, I gave birth via semi-emergency C-section six years after we were married. I have a beautiful, amazing, spunky, brilliant daughter.


I was a mom. And I had no clue what to do. I'm fairly certain many moms, if not most, feel the same way. Two months later we moved away from family and friends to be closer to my stepsons. It was a hard decision as we loved where we lived. But it was the best decision as I could now get to know them better and they could know their sister.


When my daughter was nine months old we talked to the doctor about starting the whole procedures again, hoping for a second child, but knowing that it will probably take another six years to come to pass. Three and half months later I was pregnant, and four months later I was put on bed rest due to complications. Amazing neighbors and friends came to our rescue - taking my daughter for play dates, and bringing us regular meals and cleaning our home.


At 39 weeks I gave birth, via another C-section, to a blond-haired boy who constantly takes me by surprise, even to this day. My doctor wanted me to have my tubes tied at that point just because the pregnancies were so hard on me and dangerous to me and the baby. But I'm stubborn and in my heart I felt there was another child waiting to join our family. So I politely declined.


As my son turned 11 months we went to the doctor to talk about preparations for the fertility treatments to have our third. But I told him that I needed this one to be further apart. I was already struggling with two kids only 22 months apart and not sure how to meet their needs. My oldest wasn't talking in disjointed words like the other kids her age, and there were other budding signs of delays. I wanted to be a great mom to her and her brother, but I was flying by the seat of my pants.


My doctor and I established a plan on how to make this work. Then I went home and, on a whim, took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I was already pregnant. I walked out of the bathroom. Showed my husband the result. And sat down and cried. Now please don't get me wrong. I wanted this baby more than life itself. I just didn't know how I was going to handle it.


One month later my husband lost his job due to cutbacks. In some ways this was stressful, in others fortuitous -- when he wasn't out job hunting he was helping me survive being pregnant with two toddlers. He was, and still is, my rock, my hero. About two months before the baby's due date my husband got a contract position and started working again. Three week's later I was admitted into the hospital for preeclampsia (including massive migraines and swollen legs/feet). Other than being allowed to use the restroom I was not permitted to leave my hospital bed for several days. Those were hard days on our family.


When I was allowed to go home over the weekend it was with instructions for strict bed rest. My doctor and I were going to do anything to get this baby to 37 weeks. If it weren't for friends and amazing church support I don't know how I would have made it. The day after Labor Day I was admitted back in the hospital where I gave birth to our second son, before having my tubes tied.


Many ups and down have happened over the years since our children were born. Our daughter was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, and her younger brother has Autism. I also went through a period of postpartum depression after the birth of my last son, followed by falling down the stairs twice, and rupturing a disk in my back requiring surgery.


I certainly don't have the thin body I dreamed of as a kid, and in many ways its still falling a part. I was a photographer for a time and my kids already are used to having the camera constantly in their faces. I have been, and still am a writer, writing YA fiction, essays, magazine articles, etc. And my husband and I started taking Archery classes together just last week.


It is only now that I start to look back just how unrealistic my expectations were of where my life should go. But I am forever grateful that it has gone the way it has. I cherish my three little brilliant monsters. I still don't know what I'm doing, but I wouldn't change being a mom for anything. I may not be the BEST mom, according to my unrealistic expectations, but I am a growing mom. And like a garden I find things that work and things that don't, but I look forward to the fruits of my labors. As such, I plan on using this blog to post things that I've learned through reading, from other mom's, and most importantly from my children about how to never give up trying to be the best mom you can be (whatever that means).